


...signed 'Love from Beatrice.'

by claireunderwood



Category: Rebecca - Daphne du Maurier
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-13
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-08-08 11:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7755487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claireunderwood/pseuds/claireunderwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Coming?” Beatrice called and started off towards the house again. She followed her, catching up and threading her arm through Beatrice’s. At least she would have one friend at Manderly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	...signed 'Love from Beatrice.'

**Author's Note:**

> Title is a line from Daphne Du Maurier's novel "Rebecca" and the entire fic is obviously based on it too.

She was gardening because that’s what Rebecca would have been doing on a day like this. The sun was finally shining and it was warmer than it had been in months. ‘Manderly flourishes in the spring’ - that’s what she had been told and she didn’t want to give anyone a reason to say otherwise now that she was the new Mrs. de Winter.    
  
The book on horticulture open beside her was getting steadily flecked with dirt as she wrestled with the tulips she had decided to replant opposite the library window. Maxim was watching her from inside, smoking a pipe contemplatively but actually staring off into the middle distance. She glanced up occasionally to see if he had moved, there was something about him standing there that distressed her, made her task harder than it already was.    
  
Stopping for a moment she raised a gloved hand to wipe sweat from her forehead and was met with a pair of riding boots. “Excellent day for it!” 

Craning her head up she saw a tall women in jodhpurs standing before her. The woman offered her a hand up, she noticed the woman’s nails were bitten short but precious jewels adorned her fingers. Taking the hand, she rose from her knees. 

 

“Beatrice Lacy - Maxim’s sister. It’s splendid to finally meet you my dear.” Beatrice leaned in and warmly planted kisses on both of her cheeks. “Where is the old chap anyway?” She raised a hand to block the sun from her eyes and spotted Maxim waving from the window, “Ah look there he is!” 

  
Beatrice strode off towards the house leaving her standing mute, a tulip flopping sadly from her left hand. She knew should have said something and worried she would think her terribly rude for just standing there silently.

 

The truth was she had been overwhelmed by her first impression of Beatrice. Maxim hadn’t said his sister was beautiful, he’d made her out to seem unrefined and homely. “You’ll find Beatrice in a stable rather than in a ballroom.” But as she watched the woman walk away, loose strands of sandy blonde hair escaping from an ornate clip in her hair, she couldn’t help but think Maxim was utterly wrong. 

 

“Come in for lunch, dearest!” Beatrice’s head came back round the door frame and she waved a beckoning hand before disappearing again quickly.   
  
She didn’t want to be seen in her gardening clothes, though she expected Beatrice wasn’t the kind of person to mind, she still felt she should make an effort. She was always aware of the comparison people made between her and Rebecca. “Oh, how different you are from the first Mrs. de Winter.” Almost every new person she had met felt the need to measure her against Maxim’s first wife and she knew she always fell short. 

 

Sitting next to Beatrice at lunch, she felt at ease. Maxim’s sister had a way of including her in the conversation without actually requiring her to speak. She filled the silence that usually pervaded the house with light trivial talk.    
  
It gave her a chance to watch Beatrice, her head turned towards her so she could smile and nod as Beatrice chattered. She had Maxim’s eyes, a dark greyish blue, like the sea during a storm. She wore pearls around her neck and a high collared white blouse. She got the feeling that Beatrice was a juxtaposition. The riding boots, jodhpurs, fly away hair and a ornate man’s watch on her wrist were combined with the classic blouse, the expensive jewellery and impeccable table manners. Maybe there was a way to survive in Maxim’s world that wasn’t all about meeting perfection. Maybe if she could just match up to Beatrice rather than Rebecca it wouldn’t be as difficult.

 

After lunch Beatrice asked her to walk around the garden with her. They walked arm and arm, Beatrice asking her questions about her life and upbringing. When they were out Maxim’s view she sat them on a bench seat and leaned in conspiratorially, “So tell me really, how are you finding life here at Manderly? Maxim hasn’t been too distant has he?”

 

She wanted to tell Beatrice that at the slightest instance Maxim could be lost to her for days at a time. That a fog seemed to descend and he became moody and detached. Instead, she said that she was having a wonderful time, and that they were as happy as newly weds ought to be. 

 

Beatrice watched her intently as though she suspected this wasn’t the whole truth and she felt her cheeks grow hot under her gaze. “You’re really not at all like Rebecca are you?” She said finally rising from the bench. She couldn’t quite tell if Beatrice meant this in a good way but it didn’t feel like when all the other people had drawn the comparison. 

 

“Coming?” Beatrice called and started off towards the house again. She followed her, catching up and threading her arm through Beatrice’s. At least she would have one friend at Manderly. 

 

\------------------------------

 

Maxim’s car pulled away down the driveway, he would be gone for three days and she already had a deep gnawing feeling in her stomach. The thought of being left alone in the house with Mrs. Danvers made her palms damp. She felt as though the housekeeper watched her from every window when she was outside and from every key hole when she was inside.

 

She stood on the doorstep not ready to go back into the house yet. The day was grey and blustery and the groundskeeper had told her there would be a storm tonight. She let the wind make her hair dance around her face and closed her eyes. “I’m leaving to the market, Madam.”

 

She jumped. Mrs Danver’s was standing at the bottom of the stairs, she hadn’t even heard her approach from around the back of the house. “Very well. Thank you,” she stuttered, avoiding making eye contact with the skull like face glaring up at her. 

 

Knowing the housekeeper was no longer in the house, she turned and went back inside to read a book by the fire. Perhaps if she did what Maxim would usually do when he was here then she wouldn’t miss him as much. 

 

The rain started in the late afternoon and by the time it got dark there was thunder and lightning. The wind made a curtain billow and it dragged a vase from a side table on to the ground. The smash of the glass coincided with the ringing of the phone and she jumped up from the chair unsure of what to attend to first.

 

Finally, rushing to the phone she picked it up. It was Frank Crawley who told her that he had tried to visit her earlier but that the lightning had struck a tree which was now blocking the main drive to Manderly. He told her he’d had a call from Mrs. Danvers who told him to tell her that she was unable to return to the house tonight. She thanked him and hung up the phone, her hands still trembled from the fright the vase had given her.   
  
She went to the window, carefully avoiding the glass below and closed it. She rang for Frith hoping he would help her clean up the mess but he did not come even after she rang a second time. Sitting back down on Maxim’s chair she wrung her hands together unsure of what to do next.    
  
The glass in the window panes rattled in the storm and she felt the hair on her neck stand up. It was becoming apparent that she was all alone in this big house, although there was someone else who she suspected of being there too. She couldn’t call for their help though because she knew that person couldn’t be summoned with a bell.  

 

When the electricity went out around eight she decided her best course of action was to get into bed even though it was still early. There at least she could hide under the covers and try to block out the storm.    
  
Making her way up the stairs with a gas lamp she went into her room and undressed in her ensuite. Pulling her nightgown over her head, she went back into her bedroom and extinguished the lamps in the room. Feeling her way to the bed she went to pull the covers back but her hand didn’t meet the blankets instead what she touched felt ice cold and silk clad beneath her fingers. The smell of salt water filled her nose.  

 

She screamed, falling back and pushing herself into a sitting position in the corner of the room. She sobbed unable to make herself move, the lightning illuminated the room making the person shaped rise in her bed covers more obvious. She thought she was going to pass out, fear gripped her, constricting her ability to breath.

 

Suddenly she could hear footsteps coming towards the room and the door flung open to reveal Beatrice in her riding gear, her hair wet and slicked against her face. “I rode here to check on you and heard you scream from the parlour. My god what are you doing in the corner, dear?”    
  
“Rebecca! She’s.... Rebecca!” She called out frantically.

  
Beatrice crossed the room and crouched down beside her placing a hand upon her forehead. “You’re burning up, how awful.” She could no longer speak, she wanted to thank Beatrice for saving her but she was suddenly so tired, she couldn’t even will herself to rise from the floor. 

 

After trying to coax her to stand Beatrice gave up and lifted her up into her arms. She could feel Beatrice’s cold wet hair dripping on to her face as she was carried the bed. There was no one else under the covers now and she lay down and allowed the blankets to be pulled up over her. 

 

“I’ll sleep in the guest room. If you need me just call,” Beatrice said her hand on the door handle ready to leave. “Wait! No please.” The thought of Beatrice leaving her alone again with Rebecca made her start to sob with fear again. 

  
“Oh very well. I’ll stay in here with you but you really must stop crying. You’ll make yourself ill.” Beatrice began to pull off her wet layers and then went to Maxim’s set of draws. She pulled on a pair of his pyjamas and lay down in the bed beside her.

 

She shifted over and rested her head against Beatrice’s shoulder, inhaling Maxim’s scent and feeling instantly comforted. The combination of the rain battering on the roof and the rise and fall of Beatrice’s chest allowed her to finally drift off to sleep. 

 

When she woke Beatrice was gone, were it not for the letter on the side table she could have believed that she had dreamed last night's events.

 

Dearest,

 

Had to get up early to pick up Giles from the station.    
I do hope you’re feeling better. 

 

Will call this afternoon.

 

All my love, Bee

 

Xx

 

She brushed her thumb absentmindedly over the words ‘all my love’ and felt comforted. 

 

\------------------------------

 

When Mrs. Danvers had suggested that she dress as the relative in the portrait for the upcoming costume ball she was unconvinced. But as the housekeeper relayed how happy it would make Maxim, she realised that the woman in the portrait was also Beatrice’s relative. How splendid it would be if she could please them both at once.

 

She ordered her dress from London, sending in precise sketches of how it should look. She kept her plan from the both of them and spent hours picturing their reactions. When the day finally arrived she left Mrs. Danvers to arrange everything downstairs so that she could get ready.

 

Her maid clapped with joy as she stood in front of the mirror, a spitting image of the woman in the portrait. The white gown spun out around her as she twirled with excitement. There was a knock at the door. “Well? Are you ready, dear? I want to get a look at you.” Beatrice’s voice called through the door.

 

“No! Don’t come in. I’ll be down in a moment,” she called back. “I want to make an entrance.” She could hear Beatrice laughing as she walked back down the hallway and smiled to herself, she couldn’t wait to see her reaction. 

 

When the drummer finally announced her from the top of stairs as Caroline de Winter, she grinned and waited for the applause she had expected to follow her entrance. There was nothing but silence until Beatrice let out a cry and covered her mouth in shock. She descended the stairs, confusion flooding over her. Maxim’s face was white and anger was etched on every feature, “go and get changed.”

 

She ran back up the stairs, tearing off parts of the costume as she went and slammed the door to her bedroom. She began to cry and then there was a soft knock at the door. Beatrice entered without waiting for answer. She explained that Rebecca had worn the exact same costume to the last ball. 

 

Mrs. Danvers had tricked her into angering Maxim and making a fool of herself in front of all his friends. She sobbed and Beatrice sat down next to her on the bed wrapping an arm around her. “I just wanted to surprise you,” she cried into Beatrice’s chest.   
  
“To surprise me?” Beatrice held her back by the shoulders so she could see her face. She brushed her thumb across her cheek, wiping away a tear.    
  
“Well you and Maxim,” she answered. “But… I think perhaps you the most.” She buried her head into the hollow of Beatrice’s neck again, embarrassed that she had finally said it out loud. 

 

There was silence for a few seconds and Beatrice finally spoke, “I’ve always been jealous of Maxim.” She didn’t move but waited quietly for Beatrice to go on.   
  
“Not just that he’s free from all the grooming and the standards that are part of being a woman. But the fact he’s allowed to surround himself with beautiful women. How pathetic I feel having fallen for another of his wives.” She moved her head back to gaze at Beatrice’s face and check she wasn’t talking in jest.

 

Beatrice didn’t look at her but continued to hold her in her arms. “You’re different from Rebecca though, she never saw me as a person, just another admirer. Everyone admired Rebecca but she decided to sleep with Giles. I was jealous then too that she picked him over me. I felt ridiculous.”

 

She felt mad then, that Rebecca had slighted Beatrice. It was just another thing that she was angry at Rebecca for and she decided then that she should never have been trying to emulate Rebecca. She stood up from the bed, leaving Beatrice sitting and took her face in both hands kissing her deeply. Beatrice reached a hand up to pull her closer, the bangles of her costume clinking gently with the movement. 

 

Beatrice broke the kiss first. “But Maxim,” she gasped.   
  
“...is away on business a lot,” she said finishing Beatrice’s sentence for her and pulling her back towards her. 

 

After they discussed the plans for their new arrangement, Beatrice helped her put on a blue dress and fixed her hair for her. When they descended the stairs arm and arm an hour later she felt like a different person. Maxim wouldn’t look at her, still angry about the costume but she wasn’t concerned. She stood by his side and greeted guests with a smile plastered on her face, her eyes drifting to where ever Beatrice was in the room. 

 

When the last of the guests had left and Maxim had gone to bed without a word, she found Beatrice standing by an open window smoking a cigarette. She took it from her hand and had a draw before stubbing it out and taking Beatrice’s hand. 

  
She had asked the band to play one more waltz before they left and she pulled Beatrice into the ballroom so she could dance with her. Mrs Danver’s watched sourly from the doorway but she paid no attention, wrapping a hand around Beatrice’s waist anyway.    
  
She wasn’t afraid of this house anymore, Beatrice made her feel safe, a secret of her own to rival all those Maxim kept from her.


End file.
